


Swan Lake / Swan Pond

by loisselina (LoisSelina)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Gil Arroyo Acting as Malcolm Bright's Parental Figure, Good Parent Gil Arroyo, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Parent Gil Arroyo, Protective Gil Arroyo, Sick Character, Sick Fic, also its set at christmas time because who cares yknow, anyway malcolm gets sick cause he's an impatient short idiot, dad gil arroyo, gil is malcolms dad, just because i want to use that tag, malcolm bright needs a break, my specialty, not biologically but in every way which matters, plastic swan, plus its the only possible reason for malcolm to take a fucking break, which is a mood but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoisSelina/pseuds/loisselina
Summary: Malcolm is impatient and short, consequentially he gets sick, luckily Gil is there to make sure he actually rests
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Jessica Whitly, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly, if you squint, though that will make reading hard
Comments: 9
Kudos: 104





	Swan Lake / Swan Pond

**Author's Note:**

> I fucking love this fandom, also its weird being in an active fandom, I'm used to long dead ones

It wasn’t exactly the case of the century, it hadn’t left them particularly stumped, nor did it seem ingenius, several clear suspects had arose and had been interviewed, a clear favourite had come to the forefront of the team’s list. It wasn’t a surprise to any of them that a narcissistic, wealthy, white man and owner of a large estate was targeting sex workers in the city, stabbing them then assaulting them and leaving them for dead. 

The only problem was… they didn’t have a strand of evidence, the guy, Thierry Debois, had an alibi, in fact he had an alibi for the approximate time of each and every attack. 

The team kept running into roadblock after roadblock, the team were tired and frustrated. 

“The brass want us to stop investigating him so clearly.” Gil sighed with a troubled look on his lined face as he sipped on his black coffee. 

“But he did it!” Dani protested. 

“I know. But it’s hardly a surprise that they’re protecting their image rather than pursuing the true killer. That being said we can work subtly to bring him in.”

“It’s a good thing Bright’s not here then, he’d probably chop his hand off or explode his house.” 

As though to speak of the devil a bright and happy

“Hey guys”

came from the doorway. 

JT hid a smile while Dani tried not to laugh at the way Gil looked like he was about to age five years.

“What are we working on?”

“ _ We, _ ” Gil gestured to himself, JT, and Dani, “are working on the Dubois thing,  _ you _ ,” he pointed at Malcolm in case there was any confusion, “are going home. You are still taking leave, it’s Christmas, go spend time with your mom.” 

“But… but it’s  _ Christmas! _ ” Malcolm spluttered. 

“Did you write solving a murder on your list?” Dani teased.

He looked momentarily caught out before smiling. “If I did, do I get to join the investigation?” 

Gil sighed loudly but Malcolm was undeterred. “Look I brought candy canes!”

“Bright, my office.” Gil stood up leaving his coffee on the table without looking back to make sure that the consultant was following.

“Oooo.” 

Malcolm couldn’t help but smile at JT and Dani’s childish reaction, even if his stomach twisted like a kid being sent to the principal's office. He obediently followed. 

“I know what you’re going to say-.” 

“Oh really? Did you know that I was going to say that you need to take some leave, learn how to relax, and if you can’t relax go spend time with your family they’ll leave you on edge.” 

“My mother’s parents are visiting.” Malcolm said stiffly. “Apparently now that Ainsley has dissipated some of the shame surrounding the Whitly name the Milton’s have decided they can not only be associated with us all, but my grandmother is trying to find dates for myself, my sister,  _ and _ my mother - who is more than happily going along with it.” He threw himself in the chair opposite Gil’s. 

“It’s what she grew up learning was normal.” Gil told him fairly. “I’m sure that within three days she will have told them to shove it.” 

Malcolm nodded his head and was silent as he unwrapped an unnaturally red candy cane. “I used to always get to come here when it was Christmas or I came home.” Which admittedly had been infrequently in the past four years or he was sure to have met Gil’s team sooner. “You’d let me work on a case, it’s our Christmas tradition.”

“Those were cold cases.” 

“No one cares about these women because of their profession, and some rich white guy gets away with it again, I just want… I want to help.”

Gil leant back in his chair. 

Malcolm knew he was about to get what he wanted, he added a wide eyed hopefulness to his expression, it didn’t hurt to overdo it a little.

“ _ Fine _ . You can help us, the case is nearly over anyway we just need enough to prosecute.“ He held up one finger. “But if this case isn’t over in one week you’re off it and will do anything which is needed to stop your mom from coming into my office worried about it. Deal?” 

“My mother visits you?” He sank down in his chair ever so slightly and frowned at his boss. 

“ _ Deal _ ?” Gil repeated. Malcolm nodded, and Gil stood, nodding his head for Malcolm to follow him back to the meeting room.

“Hey did I mention I’m invited to the Dubois party tonight?” The consultant said brightly, entering the room. “Oh and I brought chocolate too!”

If this case lasted a week Gil was going to kill the kid.

* * *

Although none of them would admit it to Malcolm they were glad that Malcolm had joined them, perhaps it was his inner ability to think as a serial killer, or his outer ability to think as a rich white guy but Malcolm had figured out that Dubois was hiding his knife around his property. Not just anywhere in his property but in the lake which the police had already dragged. 

“There!” Malcolm ran fast with JT hot on his heels as Gil and Dani stood either side of Dubois in case he ran away. 

“I don’t see it!” 

“It’s this one!” 

The swan had blended in with the others seamlessly, if you weren’t stood watching it for a while you’d mistake it for a real swan, not a floating statue which doubled as a murder weapon storage.

Malcolm tried to reach for it as it floated beside the bridge, but dammit he was just a little too short. He strained. 

“Bright! Wait I can get it!” 

But JT was still a little away and Bright  _ could _ do it. 

Ahah! He felt his fingers brush the damp feathers. He clasped onto them, he had it! 

The next thing he knew he had slipped over the railing and was plunged into the icy pond, realistic swan statue in hand.

“Bright!” 

The sound of three voices calling his filled his water clogged ears as his head bobbed up to the surface, spitting water out of his mouth while trying not to think of what was in the water. 

He could hear Gil’s voice shouting but it was all gurgled in his ears, and he was too focused on trying to keep his breathing calm and not going into shock from the cold water. 

He saw a hand thrust down towards him, JT’s hand. 

“Take the swan!” He insisted on lifting it up for his friend to take. 

“What the hell man? C’mere!” 

But Malcolm was insistent forcing JT to take the swan before he could pull Malcolm up out of the frigid water. 

By the time he was out he was sopping wet, dripping water and heavens knows what else onto the paved bridge, he ran a shaky hand through his hair trying to stop the water from dripping onto his face. 

“ _ Malcolm!” _ Gil had finally reached them, Dani was not far behind, dragging their suspect behind them. His hands reached out and held Malcolm an arms length away, looking him over with a trained eye for any signs of injury. 

“Under the wing.” Malcolm gasped.

“What?” JT managed to get out, while Dani and Gil gave him confused looks.

“There’s a little hatch, there should be a knife.” He said through measured breaths, trying to act as though he hadn’t just fallen into a pond in the middle of winter.

JT found the hatch and sure enough the knife was there, crusted blood had pooled where the hilt met the blade. “Shit man.” 

Gil managed to nod, that about summed it up, he still hadn’t let go of Malcolm. “You guys have the please, I’ll be at the station in half an hour.” He gave a knowing look to Dubois who looked as though he had signed his death warrant. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to talk.” 

The pair watched at JT and Dani led the man off, party goers had started to stand out on the lawn trying to catch sight of what was going on. Gil felt Malcolm try to move, Gil turned his attention back to him. “Not so fast, city boy. You need to go home.” 

“But I’m, I want to find out why he did it, he’s like a modern Jack the Ripper.” 

“No chance, you’re soaking wet in winter, do you think I don’t remember that you get sick if you even look at someone with a cold?” 

“Gil I’ll be fine, honestly, my immune system improved, honestly I’m on meds for it.” Okay that was a lie but why did that matter? “I’ll change at the precinct, I swear, I just want to hear him confess.” 

Gil was not happy, but he forced himself to remember that Malcolm was Malcolm Bright- consultant, and employee of Gil, not Malcolm Bright, the little kid he cared about as he would his own son. “Fine.” He agreed through gritted teeth. “You get changed straight away and go as soon as he confesses, and if I see you as much as shiver I am taking you to the emergency room myself.”

Malcolm was quick to agree to the conditions. 

* * *

  
  


The confession was underwhelming, Malcolm had to admit that, he had wanted a little something more, but the guy was just angry because he found out his son was not his biological son, and got frustrated when he couldn’t get it up, it felt freudian, which was enough to irritate anyone, plus the police issued gym clothes Malcolm had been given were annoying him, the label in the back of the sweatshirt was annoying him. 

He was restraining a shiver when he felt a hand clap down onto the back of his neck. It was heavy and anchoring, it immediately cleared his mind of fixating on the sweatshirt label.

“It’s time to go home. Dubois was booked an hour ago and you’ve been staring into space. Go home and enjoy your time off.” 

Malcolm knew that tone of voice, he had heard it since he was a kid, he knew he wouldn’t be able to charm his way out of this. “Fine.” He let out in a sigh which hid the shiver. 

“I can take you, I’m heading out anyway.” Dani volunteered. 

Gil looked torn, as though he was about to insist that he would take him, but relented with a nod to Dani. “Get some sleep kid.” 

Malcolm smirked, yeah right, when did he ever sleep? But he nodded good naturedly. “Sure Gil, I’ll go get some sleep.” 

* * *

  
  


“I thought I told you this case was done?” Gil’s hands went to his hips watching Malcolm sway as he walked in and dropped to sit at one of the empty desks.

“The case isn’t done until the paperwork is done.” Bright pointed out, squinting to keep his vision straight. “I need to write my report or the brass will be on your back.” 

It wasn’t wrong, so Gil sighed but nodded. He walked over to JT’s desk to talk to him about the other cases they were working on, he perched on the side of the detective’s desk, watching the youngest on their team. 

Malcolm had always been a pale and sickly child; short and skinny and only had to think about sneezing to contract the flu. Gil had watched him grow, training to be an FBI agent, picking up weird hobbies mostly involving archaic weapons, or completely impractical ones (he still wasn’t sure why Malcolm had wanted to learn axe throwing despite watching him compete several times), he had remained short but had at least filled out a little. But he clearly still got sick easily. He was pale, had kept his coat on and was shivering in it, he kept pressing against his head as though trying to halt a headache, and he kept clearing his throat to stop himself from coughing and glancing anywhere but his paperwork.

Gil sighed. 

JT’s voice broke through Gil’s troubled thoughts. “He needs to go home.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You know you’re the only one who can actually get him to do that, right?” 

Gil looked at his colleague and friend and let out a sigh. “Yeah I know, JT. But it’s easier said than done.” 

JT couldn’t help but laugh a little, he didn’t envy his boss in the slightest. 

Gil walked slowly over to perch on Malcolm’s desk instead, the paperwork he claimed to have come into the station to do was completely blank, in fact the consultant’s pen hadn’t even been uncapped.

“You have two choice, you go home rest and recuperate on your own, you get better and back to your usual self so you can actually work.” Gil’s voice was low trying not to cause a scene in the bullpen. 

Malcolm was quiet for a moment and Gil thought that perhaps he hadn’t heard him before he asked in a quiet scratchy voice. “What’s the second option?”

“I drag you out of here myself, which I assure you you wont like.” 

Malcolm met his eyes and found steel in them. Malcolm suddenly felt overcome with emotion and had to bite his lip. “Just wanted to help.” He mumbled. 

Gil’s hand reached out to try and feel for a temperature, it was an automatic gesture, but Malcolm managed to dodge it so Gil dropped his hand back down.

“Bright,” Gil’s voice softened, he could see that spooked puppy dog look on his face and he was impressed that he was able to ignore it, “you have helped, you helped but that guy away, but you’re ill, you need to go home, okay kid?” 

Malcolm let out a huff then nodded his head, his head felt like a magic eight ball as it moved, pressure forming in his sinuses. 

“You need me to call you a cab?” 

“I’ve got it.” He brought out his phone, fiddled with it before standing up.

Gil stood up at the same time, placed his hand on the back of Malcolm’s neck and guided him out. 

“I can go out by myself.” Malcolm grumbled without any heat. 

“You’re walking like a kid who got into their parents’ liquor cabinet, I don’t want you to fall and get a concussion, ‘cause then I’ve gotta come and sit with you in the ER.” He joked and could see a flicker of a smile appear on Malcolm’s face.

* * *

  
  


Malcolm couldn’t help but feel frustrated as he entered his loft, slamming the door behind him, then immediately regretting it as it reverberated through his head.

He felt terrible when he had woken that morning, but now he had gone through all the motions of getting dressed and ready for work and getting then and now getting back… he felt like he had been scraped off of the sidewalk. 

He practically collapsed onto his couch, finding it too laborious to walk in the opposite direction to his bed, he would go there soon, he promised himself lying down on the stiff leather. He knew the bed would be better for him, he needed to be chained down in case he decided to throw himself out of his window again or something even worse…. He would go there, he just needed to regain his strength…. He would go there in a minute…..

  
  


* * *

Malcolm woke with a start hearing his name being called, it took him another minute to realise that his phone was pressed to his cheek. “Huh?” He grunted. 

“ _ Malcolm _ ?” 

Gil? Wait was it Gil? He pulled the phone from his ear to stare at the name for a second before putting it back to his ear. “Gil? What’s wrong?”

There was a short pause. “ _ You called me, kiddo _ .” Gil’s voice was softer than it had been a minute ago. 

“Oh….” Malcolm frowned then swallowed, he should really have some water, maybe he had some in his fridge. “Fell asleep.”

“ _ That’s okay, kid, that’s good. You need your sleep. _ ”

“Fell asleep on the couch... didn’t mean to.” He could hear Gil swallow. 

“ _ That’s okay, nothing bad happened. _ ” 

There was another pause. 

Silence. 

“ _ Kid, I’m going to come over, okay? _ ” It wasn’t a question and Gil couldn’t have seen him anyway but Malcolm nodded his head. “ _ I’ll be there in ten. _ ”

Malcolm nodded again. Then he frowned, Gil was coming over? But it was the middle of the night, or it was night time, or maybe it was still early? The loft was dark but he couldn’t have been asleep for that long since getting back. “There’s a case?” 

“ _ No kid you’re-. _ ” Gil cut himself off with a sigh. “ _ I’ll be over in ten, Malcolm _ .” 

“‘Kay.” Malcolm mumbled trying to figure out what felt so strange about hearing Gil call him by his first name, it was such a rare occurrence, but what did it mean? 

He led his head back down on his phone and it took him three minutes to realise that Gil had hung up. 

* * *

  
  


Malcolm Bright knew three different types of martial arts, was adept at both hand to hand combat and swordsmanship, he was a two time silver medal axe thrower, had been a highly trained FBI agent, he was also crack shot with a gun, and was afflicted with bone chilling nightmares which left him on edge and prepared to defend himself from attack constantly.

But when he woke up to a hand touching his forehead all he could manage was a dumbstruck. “Huh, Da..?” He squinted up at the hand then the man it belonged to, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the lights now on in the loft.

“It’s just me, kid.”

Malcolm frowned, looked down at his phone then back up at Gil, how the hell had he got there so quickly? It took him a few more seconds to realise three things:   
1\. He had fallen back asleep without meaning to.  _ Again _ .   
2\. Gil’s hand was on his forehead.   
3\. Gil was checking for a temperature.  _ Again _ .

Malcolm pulled his head back but only managed to bump it on the back of the couch. 

“Too late, city boy.” Gil sighed at Malcolm’s frankly pathetic attempt at avoiding having his temperature taken. “You’ve got a temperature.” 

Malcolm stretched with a yawn then sat himself up. “No I don’t.” He mumbled.

Gil rolled his eyes and shook his head, but then a fond smile grew on his worried face. “I forgot how stubborn you get when you’re sick.” 

“I’m never stubborn.” 

“Uh huh, and I’m Mother Thereasa.” 

Malcolm pouted despite himself. “Wha’’s the case?” He slurred through a yawn.

“Case?” Gil frowned. 

“You called.” Malcolm slumped back against the couch. 

“ _ You _ called  _ me. _ ” Gil’s frown only deepened. “Have you got a thermometer?” 

Malcolm hesitated before shaking his head. 

“Liar.” Gil scoffed without heat, he reached into the bag he had placed on the table when he entered and pulled out a brand new one, having quickly dashed to the store on his way. “Lucky I bought one then. Open up Bright.” 

“Gil, really I’m fine I just didn’t get much sleep.” 

“ _ Bright _ put it in your mouth or I drag you straight to the ER right now.” 

“Unfair threat.” Malcolm grumbled but snatched the thermometer from his surrogate father. 

“It could have been worse, I could have threatened to call Jessica.” 

The idea that he could easily do so forced Bright to put the thermometer into his mouth, all while glaring at Gil. Two seconds later he gave up the glaring and let his eyes fall shut, his head back on the top of the couch leaning ever so slightly back, awake but too fatigued to stay that way for much longer.

Gil shook his head fondly. Malcolm had always been the same, he got sick hard and fast, and would act like a petulant child until it was over, neither of these things had improved even as he got older. 

He looked at the man and could still see the boy he had once been, the boy who would be at his house for dinner at least twice a week, and who more often than not would spend the time he was sick with Gil and Jackie, Jessica had never really been the best at sicknesses, though she had tried. 

Gil wondered, not for the first time how Bright had coped being on his own in D.C and around the country with the FBI, he was capable but he had zero survival instincts. 

Gil had been worried about this before Malcolm had even joined the FBI, but Jackie had laughed when he had said it out loud, according to her he would always have ended up in something to do with arresting bad guys, Gil thought so too - Malcolm was desperate to understand his father, Jackie however claimed it was because Malcolm idolised Gil, though Gil wasn’t so sure. 

The thermometer beeped pulling both of their attention back to it, Malcolm took it from his mouth and Gil swiftly took it from Malcolm’s hand. “You want to know the damage?”

Malcolm shook his head after a moment's hesitation, and asked instead “Fever?” 

“Yup.” 

“Whoops.” 

“Yeah,  _ whoops _ .” Gil rolled his eyes then squeezed the younger man’s shoulder. “Go get changed into something more comfortable than a suit, I’m guessing you haven’t eaten, I bought soup, Jackie’s recipe.” 

Mentioning Jackie to Malcolm was rare, the men’s love for her was pure and painful, despite the three years distance from her death. It was enough to stir stubborn Malcolm to follow Gil’s order and go towards his bedroom to change while Gil moved to the kitchen. 

* * *

Gil placed a paper grocery bag of food he had bought in the store into the fridge, rolling his eyes when he noticed only sparkling water. “You’re killing me kid.” He mumbled to himself. He shut the fridge and managed to find a pot and a couple of bowls, he wasn’t sure if Malcolm would be able to cope with both soup and a grilled cheese, so instead just added a side of bread he could dip into the soup, he put the same as a side for his own, mostly to save on washing up. 

By the time the soup was ready there was still no noise coming from Malcolm’s room, Gil added the food and a couple of drinks (coffee for him, sparkling water for Malcolm) to a tray which looked suspiciously like one which used to be in his own house and carried it towards the bedroom. He grabbed the bag of medicine he had bought and carried it with him.

Malcolm had managed to get dressed, his suit dumped in a pile on the ground, but it had clearly taken a lot of work, he looked wiped as he slumped on his bed. 

“I was on my way.” Malcolm apologised or excused, Gil wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Now you don’t have to. Here sit back.” When Malcolm did as he was told Gil handed him the bottle of water and a couple of cold and flu tablets Gil knew would probably knock the kid out but wouldn’t interact with all the other medicines he took. Malcolm didn’t even bother to look at them, or ask what they were, he just downed them in one go. Gil placed the tray onto Malcolm’s lap before taking his own bowl.

They ate quietly, Gil filled the silence with stories from his time on the force and with worried glances at Malcolm who was at least eating, albeit slowly.

Malcolm’s eyes shined bright with fever and Gil debated, not for the first time, just taking him to the ER despite his promises of the contrary. 

“Dani’s my friend.” Malcolm’s voice was slurred with sleep deprivation and sickness. “She said so.” 

It took Gil a second to realise that Malcolm was indeed talking to him. He didn’t know what was going on in that big brain to bring on this strain of thought but he smiled at him. “I know, kid. JT is too.” He assured him, sure he might try and act to the contrary, but Gil knew all about Bright crashing the former’s date night and JT not minding. 

Malcolm swallowed a spoonful of the soup, savouring the taste. “I miss her.” 

“Dani? You saw her yesterday.” 

“Not Dani.” He swallowed another spoon of soup. 

Gil frowned. “Who- oh.” He realised that the pain in Malcolm’s eyes wasn’t just from his sickness, it was in reaction to the soup. “Me too, kid, me too.” The two men were quiet for a while. “She loved you like you were her own, you know that, don’t you?”    
He received a non-committal hum from Bright which made him remember that despite all his confidence that the consultant always doubted people truly loved him.    
“We both do.” He looked over and watched as a few silent tears slipped out of those big blue eyes.    
Gil reached over and squeezed the back of his neck, a comforting and reassuring action he had been using since he was a kid. 

They eventually went back to eating, the silence was companionable as both were lost in their memories, Gil jumped when the sound of Malcolm’s spoon clattered against his bowl. Malcolm had fallen asleep and for once he looked peaceful. 

* * *

  
  


Gil hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially not sat up on a chair next to Malcolm’s bed, he was getting older and he already knew that his back was going to ache for a week. He had also meant to handcuff Malcolm to his bed, he had been sleeping like that for years, but he hadn’t seemed to stir from any nightmares, Gil would keep an eye on him but perhaps for once he would just have a peaceful sleep.

Gil had just stood up and walked to the kitchen to start some coffee when the front door open. “Jessica.” He said surprised, not that she had let herself in, but that she was up so early, wait was it early? How long had he slept?

“Gil what are you doing here?” 

“Malcolm got sick, I came to check on him when he rang me and didn’t even realise he had, he was pretty out of it, I think his fever broke now though.” He could see the worry in her face so he walked towards her and took hold of her hands. “Jess, he’s going to be okay, he’s just stubborn.”

Jessica nodded her head, she knew he was right. “Thank you, for being here with him, I’m sure it meant a lot to him too.” She had not let go of his hands. 

“He means a lot to me, even if he can be bone headed.” He joked. 

“Gil, I-.” 

“What’s going on here?” 

Gil and Jessica both instinctively took a large step away from each other as they turned to face the source of the croaky voice. 

“Malcolm, dear!”

“Kid, you’re up!” Gil raised his eyebrows in question. “How’d you sleep?”

Malcolm’s own questioning look disappeared and his face brightened. “No nightmares. I guess I was too tired to dream.” He didn’t say anything about not being handcuffed in case it worried his mother.

“Oh Malcolm, dear, that is wonderful news.” Jessica’s face was alight with a smile, Gil was almost certain that she looked happier than she ever had at any of those stuffy socialite parties he had caught sight of her in photographs in magazines. She wrapped Malcolm in a tight hug.

Gil found himself smiling at the two of them, reaching out to squeeze the back of Malcolm’s neck as he so often did. 

When Malcolm finally broke free of their hold he was still smiling. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Malcolm walked towards the fridge brushing off Gil’s question. He opened the fridge, saw an unfamiliar paper bag, and two bottles of lemon and lime sparkling water, he shut the fridge. Breakfast of champions it was, he scooped a handful of licorice out of a jar on the side and ripped a bite out of one.    
He turned towards Gil and Jessica who were both looking at him with disappointment in their eyes.    
Now he remembered why he only dealt with one of them at a time. 

“I bought some stuff, licorice  _ isn’t _ breakfast. How are you feeling?” Gil moved fully away from Jessica and into the kitchen pulling eggs and a couple of other things out of the paper bag in the fridge.

“Stellar, top of the world, one hundred percent!” Malcolm beamed but his voice ripped through his throat and gave away that he was still quite clearly unwell. “Mother what are you doing here?” 

Jessica rolled her eyes at Gil. “See, such a nice welcome from my  _ only _ son.” She turned to look back at Malcolm who was unaffected by her dramatics. “I came to take you to breakfast with myself and your sister, to celebrate the early departure of your grandparents.” 

Gil let out a small snort of laughter, she had gotten rid of them faster than he had thought she would. 

“But I see now that you’re unwell.” She reached out and felt his forehead frowning at the heat coming off of it then took a step back. “Obviously you can’t come, you could pass whatever this is onto one of us, you need to stay home and rest. How did you even get sick?” 

Malcolm looked back at Gil, who shared a look with him, before looking back at his mother with an easy smile. “Just that time of year I guess.”    
She would either be exasperated with him or would send some man out to shoot all the real swans in that pond and Malcolm wasn’t sure he wanted to know which one it would be.

“Well, I shall book you a doctors appointment in a couple of days time, for a check up, flu jab, whatever else you need.” 

“Mother I am capable of booking my own appointments.” 

“I must be going dear, look after yourself,” she cleared her throat and Malcolm could have sworn that she blushed a little, “Gil it was nice seeing you. Happy Holidays.”

“And you Jessica.” He smiled softly at her and Malcolm felt too sick already to try and understand the looks between the two of them. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

When she left Malcolm walked over to Gil who was scrambling some eggs. “What was that?” 

“What-? Oh nothing, she was just worried about you.” 

Malcolm raised one of his eyebrows he thought it was pretty clear that it wasn’t just him his mother had been interested in. 

“Take those with your normal medicines.” He pointed to the medicine Malcolm had taken the night before which currently sat next to the row of orange pill bottles. 

Malcolm collected all the tablets for that morning before tossing them into his mouth one at a time like popcorn. 

“What does your doc say about you taking the tablets like that?” Gil laughed good naturedly as he plated up the food. 

“That I’m cool.” Malcolm smirked. He ruined his ‘cool’ facade by erupting into a coughing fit. 

Gil nudged a glass of orange juice into his hand. “Slow sips, kid.” 

Malcolm did so and eventually the coughing stopped and his breathing evened out. “When do you have to go to work?”

“I’m off today.” He had swapped a shift with Dani last night, when he had explained why she immediately agreed. “I figured we could watch some movies?” 

“Together?”

Gil smirked. “Well I figured someone should keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t get even sicker from chasing another fake swan.” He handed Malcolm a plate.

“I’m never going to live this down am I?” 

“I’m sure the team will be happy to mention it every now and again.” 

Malcolm groaned as best he could. “I resign.” 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at loboselinaistrash where I post garbage, come talk to me about your headcanons for prodigal son, or anything else, or give me prompts :D


End file.
